


The Perks of Wearing a Dress

by Irollforinitiative



Series: Mystrade Fluff Drabbles [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drag, M/M, Porn, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irollforinitiative/pseuds/Irollforinitiative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg finds a picture of a play Mycroft was in during his Uni days.   A play where all the parts were played by men, including the female roles.  The sight of Mycroft in a dress has a strong effect on Greg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perks of Wearing a Dress

**Author's Note:**

> For my dearest Arri. I may have broken your heart with my series, but now I've written you smut as an apology.

Greg sighed and opened his eyes. Mycroft's arm wasn't around him which meant he'd already gotten up and gone in to work.  It was a Saturday and they really should have been spending the morning in bed together giggling and lazily kissing one another, but sometimes work called.  Greg couldn't help the sad twinge in his chest at the fact that they'd been officially living together for just a month and fifty percent of their Saturday's thus far had been spent solitary.  Admittedly the other on was Greg's fault.  There had been a homicide the night before.  Greg rolled onto his back and smiled: this was his life now, his life with Mycroft.  Forever.  A few Saturdays alone was worth it for a life with the man of his dreams. 

 

With a groan Greg god up and stretched, deciding to shower the sweat from last night's sex away before eating breakfast.  A half hour later a still damp Greg shuffled into the sitting room with a piece of toast in his mouth. He flopped down and turned on the telly.  Soon, however, his attention wavered. On the bookshelves that lined the walls of the room were a multitude of photo albums.  Mycroft had informed Greg that his mother had been terribly fond of making albums in his youth and there was an album for every school term and every family holiday.  He'd shown Greg one from a past Christmas when Mycroft was 13 and Sherlock was 6.  Both boys's letters to Santa were on the opening page and were followed by dozens of pictures and bits of ribbon and Christmas cards.  Sherlock had flat out refused to keep any of the albums so Mycroft had them all. 

 

Greg had seen inside of a few of them but he decided to look through one now to help ease the ache he had at waking up alone. He sat down and opened the album.  Looking at the year he realized it was from Mycroft's first year at Uni.  On the first page was a picture of an even skinnier and more awkward looking Mycroft standing outside a university housing building with a grin plastered on his face.  Next to it was a sight that still made Greg uneasy: an 11 year old Sherlock smiling widely and dressed in extremely casual clothes.  Sherlock was 11, that meant it was probably just a few months from the time this photo was taken that Sherlock discovered their father was having an affair and accidentally instigated his family falling apart.  Greg opened to the last page and sadness washed over his face.  He was greeted by the sight of a much heavier Mycroft smiling a bit sadly at the camera outside the same building and a scowling and overdressed Sherlock.  The stress of that year showed on both their faces.

 

Going back to the start of the album Greg started looking through the pictures. He didn't want to look at Mycroft sad.  He wanted to see him happy and enjoying his first term at Uni.  The first few pages were focused on a prize Sherlock had won for his school essay.  But then he was greeted by the sight of a playbill. It was for "Hamlet" and there under the cast was Mycroft's name.  Greg had to look twice when he realized Mycroft was credited as Ophelia.  He looked back to the front of the open bill again.  Under the title was the subtitle "a all men's performance." Greg turned the page with some trepidation. The next few pictures were from rehearsals.  Mycroft had a headband on but other than that it looked like any other play rehearsal.  Except, of course, there were only men there.  It was when Greg flipped the page again that he was greeted by a shocking sight.  Mycroft was in his full costume: a long and elegant dress that clung to his waist and chest but flowed gently around his shoulders and hips.  He was fully made up and had on fake eyelashes to accentuate his own.  Mycroft looked for all the world like a woman, except he had no boosom or wig.

 

Greg continued to stare at the picture for some time. Something about it was entirely alluring.  It wasn't Mycroft trying to pass for a woman, it was just Mycroft in a dress.  The rest of the pictures showed that the performance was a bit of a drag performance, with all the female characters played by men in dresses and makeup, but no other amplifications.  They all looked brilliant but Mycroft so obviously stole the show.  Something about the way his body existed in the dress and the way he looked at his fellow cast members through thick lashes was entirely sexy.  Greg quickly found himself getting hard and before long checked the time and indulged in a quick wank, the picture of Mycroft in drag close by.  After some clean up Greg stretched out on the sofa for a nap, the box of tissues and open photo album still on the end table.

 

It was only an hour or so later that Mycroft came home: just in time for lunch. He slipped into the flat and groaned as he dropped his briefcase and hung up his coat.  The tired scowl on his face faded away as he saw Greg asleep on the sofa.  Mycroft hurried into the bedroom to change into house clothes.  He rarely if ever wore pajamas or sweats around the house, but it gave Greg so much pleasure to see him thsuly.  So Mycroft pulled on one of the few pairs of flannel trousers he owned and a soft t-shirt before slipping out to the sitting room once more.  He kneeled on the floor next to the sofa and let his fingers ghost along Greg's cheek. Mycroft hated to wake Greg, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to lean down and kiss those warm and pliant lips. 

 

Greg smiled almost instantly.  It had taken him a bit to get used to being kissed awake by Mycroft, but now that he was no longer surprised by it he found he loved it.  Greg let his hand slip into Mycroft's hair to pull him closer for a longer kiss.  After a moment he released him and Mycroft leaned back with a small smile. 

 

"Good morning, my dear." He stood up and moved to sit at the other end of the sofa, lifting Greg's feet and putting them in his lap. 

 

Greg grinned with abandon, "Look at you in pajamas."

 

"I wore them for you. You approve?"

 

"I get to see you in something no one else does.  I approve greatly." Greg giggled and sighed as Mycroft started to rub his feet gently. 

 

Mycroft's eyes flicked to the table and his motions halted. "You looked through some photo albums?"

 

Greg blushed, feeling caught. "Yes.  Should I not have?"

 

"No.  You live here and are my love. You deserve the ability to look through my albums." He still looked nervous.

 

"If it helps, I only looked through the one." Greg still felt guilty somehow.

 

Mycroft started at the album and chuckled. "You happened to look at the one album that contains a picture of me…in a dress."

 

Greg blushed. "Yeah…well I liked it."

 

"What?" Mycroft's eyes cut to Greg quickly and his gaze was piercing and inquisitive even as his cheeks colored gently.

 

"Yeah.  If you notice there's a box of tissues next to the album." Greg's wide grin returned. 

 

Mycroft blushed deeply. "You…to that?"

 

Rolling his eyes, Greg sat up and moved close to kiss Mycroft gently. He smiled against the younger man's lips and whispered, "Yes.  I rubbed one out while looking at a picture of you in a dress."

 

Mycroft shivered and let his hands come to rest at Greg's waist, pulling Greg down to sit in his lap. "You know, I still have that costume."

 

"You do?" Greg tipped his head to kiss along Mycroft's neck. "One question though?"

 

"Mmm?" Mycroft had tilted back his head and let his eyes drift closed.

 

"Why men in dresses.  Why not cast women?"

 

Mycroft let out a breathy chuckle as Greg continued his path. "It was supposed to be a statement about gender in Shakespeare's plays or something.  The director was a bit barmy."

 

"Yes well it turned out fine in the end, didn't it?" Greg nipped below Mycroft's ear. 

 

Mycroft groaned softly. "It did? How so?"

 

Greg sat back a little and grinned wolfishly at Mycroft. "Because I'm going to order take-away while you find that costume.  Then after lunch you're going to put it on and then I'll take it off."

 

Mycroft giggled and smiled. "I truly don't understand the allure but I'll acquiesce."

 

"You're living with a bisexual man, love.  A handsome man looking elegant and shapely in a dress is the best of both worlds." He moved off of Mycroft's lap and fished his phone out from between the sofa cushions where it had fallen while he'd napped.

 

The following hour was perhaps the slowest and most painful hour either of them had ever experienced.  Mycroft had found the dress quickly and there was nothing to do but watch a bit of telly while they waited for the food and then eat quickly and silently, both thinking about what they'd like to do to the other.  It was a surprisingly common occurrence in their relationship.  Both men were so busy that sometimes sex had to be scheduled and things like eating or work had to be completed first.  Consequently they would both spend so much time thinking about shagging the other that the resultant sex was almost always wildly passionate entirely satisfying.

 

So Greg sat and ate quickly, thinking about how Mycroft looked in that picture.  He thought about what it was going to be like to take it off of him. Mycroft stared at Greg and couldn't help but smile a little, he could see the cogs in Greg's head working.  He finished his food and picked up Greg's empty plate, tossing the leftovers into the fridge quickly.  Mycroft turned to lean on the counter and watched Greg.

 

"Shall I go change?" he raised an eyebrow.

 

Greg swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yes please."

 

Mycroft slipped into the bedroom and quickly pulled on the dress.  The only reason he'd kept it was because everyone had made sure he was entirely aware of how attractive he looked in the dress.  He'd his first serious boyfriend because of that dress.  Rodger had helped him get through the entire incident with his father. Ergo, Mycroft had held onto the costume.  Admittedly a little strange putting it on right now, but Gregory had liked the photos.  Mycroft looked at himself in the mirror and had to smile a little.  The dress still hugged in all the right places.  It made him look delicate and elegant.  Mycroft stepped back into the kitchen and cleared his throat gently.

 

Greg looked up and gasped. "God Mycroft, you're so gorgeous."

 

"Hush." Mycroft blushed and looked aside.

 

Greg stepped forward and gently held Mycroft's hips, looking up at him and smiling. "No. Never.  Because you need to know how beautiful you are."

 

Mycroft blushed deeper and leaned down to kiss Greg softly. Greg's hands gripped the dress tighter and pulled Mycroft closer. He leaned down to nip along Mycroft's neck.

 

"I'm going to fuck you now, with your permission."

 

"Obviously yes." Mycroft groaned a little. "Shall we retire to the bedroom?"

 

"No, I'm going to have you on the kitchen table."

 

Mycroft groaned and revealed the small tube of lubricant he'd slipped into one of the hidden pockets on the dress while he was in the bedroom.  Greg smiled and kissed him fiercely, their tongues sliding against one another's as he pressed Mycroft's hips into the kitchen table.  Mycroft whimpered and clung to Greg's shoulders, already hard from the contact. Greg drug his lips away from Mycroft's to tug down one shoulder of the dress and press wet kisses to the skin that was revealed.  Mycroft smiled and eased his bum up onto the table, sitting so he could wrap his legs around Greg's hips.

 

Greg let one hand slip up Mycroft's thigh.  As it moved he leaned back a little and frowned. "What kind of pants are you wearing?"

 

Mycroft grinned wickedly.  "I'm in a dress, Gregory.  I'm wearing knickers."

 

Greg's eyes went wide and he stepped back, hiking the long skirt of the costume up around Mycroft's hips.  He groaned at the sight of Mycroft in soft lace knickers in a green that nearly matched the dress.  He couldn't resist bending down to bury his face in the material and taking a deep breath. Mycroft whimpered softly and his hips pressed into Greg's cheek.

 

"Oh Gregory, to see you affected thusly by something I've done is…consumingly erotic."

 

Greg only groaned and gently reached up to slide the frilly undergarment down Mycroft's legs. He tossed the fabric aside and kissed Mycroft slowly, fumbling blindly until he found the bottle Mycroft had brought. 

 

"I'm going to fuck you on the table, Mycroft.  I'm going to fuck you slowly until you beg. Okay?" Greg growled into Mycroft's ear as he poured some lubricant onto his fingers.

 

Mycroft nodded and responded with a choked moan, words failing him under the gaze of Greg's lust. Greg smiled adoringly at Mycroft as he slipped a finger inside of him.  Both men groaned at the feeling and Mycroft drug Greg's face back to his own, kissing him messily as he groaned and rocked against Greg's hand that was gently working him open. In an attempt to distract himself from the feeling, Mycroft let his hands work on divesting Greg of his clothes.  In a few minute's time Greg was naked save for his shirt that hung from the wrist of the hand who's fingers were inside Mycroft, and Mycroft was sweating and keening, his hips in constant motion.

 

"Please.  Gregory, please."

 

Greg chuckled, "Please what?"

 

Mycroft fixed him with a glare.  "Please stop being such a fucking tease and shag me."

 

"Oooh you must be desperate.  You've stooped to swearing."

 

"Fucking hell Greg!" Mycroft's head was thrown back as he whimpered, the dress falling further down the one shoulder Greg had uncovered earlier.

 

Greg removed his fingers and let the shirt fall away, slicking himself quickly and pushing into Mycroft.  He paused and pressed his forehead against Mycroft's shoulder, thinking about anything non sexual to combat the warmth and tightness what was Mycroft.  Mycroft, however, was still begging.

 

"Gregory, please. S'il te plait. Пожалуйста. Quaeso. Ic bedece ϸu."

 

Greg chuckled breathily, "Was that Old English."

 

Mycroft nodded and chuckled a little.

 

"You only resort to ancient languages when you're desperate." Greg began to rock his hips finally.

 

Mycroft gasped and let his head fall onto Greg's shoulder. "F…faster.  I'm already so close."

 

Greg wanted to tease him longer and drag it out but Mycroft's desperation was seeping under his skin and pressing him to go faster.  He took Mycroft in hand and sped his hips.  Mycroft bit down on Greg's shoulder and cried out as he came, his hips shaking with the force of his orgasm.  Greg moaned loudly and sped more, slamming his hips into Mycroft as he felt his own orgasm wash over him.  With a low groan he stilled and leaned heavier onto his lover. 

 

Mycroft traced his fingers gently along Greg's spine. "I suppose this means I will have to wear knickers more often."

 

"I don't want you to do anything you don't enjoy." Greg chuckled and pulled out of Mycroft with a groan, still pinning him to the table with his torso. 

 

Mycroft giggled. "If you promise to be that passionate ever time I wear them, I think I will have to say that I firmly enjoy wearing knickers."

 

"I love you Mycroft." Greg chuckled and sat up to kiss him softly.

 

"I love you too, Gregory." Mycroft slipped off the table, the dress hem falling back to the floor.

 

"You should…you should keep that somewhere easy to find." Greg blushed as he looked at Mycroft's form in the fabric and felt his body wishing it could respond again.

 

"I planned on it." Mycroft grinned and kissed Greg once more, tugging him towards the bedroom. "But for now, we need a shower."


End file.
